conversations in ten questions 77: Marie Bjørn

The New Text Festival, organized by GalataPerform, which celebrates its 20th anniversary this year, and which is Turkey's first and only playwriting festival, took place this year for the twelfth time between 24th November and 4th December 2023, focusing on the theme of "Real". At the festival, which creates an area where Turkish writers and directors meet with artists from abroad within the scope of Theater Beyond Borders, we continue from where we left off by publishing our conversations with international playwrights whose plays have been translated into Turkish and staged readings. Our next guest Marie Bjørn. 

Marie Bjørn, who is interested in both theatre, film and prose writing, graduated from the Danish National Faculty of Performing Arts as a playwright in 2019 and from the alternative film school Super16 in Copenhagen as a screenwriter in 2022. Bjørn was nominated for the Reumert Playwright of the Year and Special Mention awards in 2020 for his first play, Apocalypse. Bjørns's Du vil møde en anden won the Reumert Special Mention of the Year award in 2022.

What is the essence of good play/playwriting in your opinion?

When I get a feeling of belonging right there with the play or the performance of it, and when I forget about time. When I feel included, mirrored, and a part of something secret and almost holy. When I’m surprised, and when I’m being seduced enough to forget all about playwriting skills and tactics for good storytelling. When I can feel someone or something behind the words and get the sensation that the words come from something experienced, something thought through and, someone that still dares to ask questions, and be vulnerable. In that way, a good play is a beautiful company, and a go-to if you ever feel lonely. 

Do you believe in the transformative power of art? How?

In a world that is so ruled and ruined by white supremacy, capitalism and patriarchy, I very much believe that art can create, and open room for reflections, tears and changes. I believe art has a potential to create and hold space for emotions and reactions upon our very existence, our future and dreams, and I find it extremely necessary, especially during these current times , where there’s so much focus on conflicts and disasters in the world – and what divides people, instead of bringing us together. Most importantly, I think art contains ways to confront the audience in a way that is unique. When writing for the stage, I often think about how extreme theater as a ‘sport’ is. I mean, we go lock ourselves up in a black box for hours, we even pay for it, and most times, the seats are not that comfortable, and it can be a bit hard to see the whole performance from a distance. I absolutely love that layer of discomfort within the artform. It is as if the audience itself must put themselves at risk, and I like that idea. I think theater can be very boring when we forget that we actually perform it in front of a group of living, breathing and thinking people who sit right in front of us, and with whom we share the same present. One of the most touching plays I’ve ever seen was a 6 hour long performance, And on the thousand night by Forced Entertainment. I’m not saying this to seem very artsy, because I normally prefer pieces to be around 1,5 hour long, since I’m easily distracted. But there was something so deep felt with this play that hasn't really left me. The performers battled to tell stories. They told us stories they’ve just heard, or come up with, or stories they’ve carried along with them all their lives. I don’t remember any specific plot in the play, but I remember a sea of emotions in the room, coming from the actors, from the audience, and from myself. There was a very moving focus among the audience of not wanting to miss a word. I saw the piece in 2016 when I was studying playwriting, and it reminded me to never, never forget the tons of opportunities the craft of storytelling withhold. Storytelling can be used for propaganda, manipulation and transformation, so yes, I do believe in the power of art.

When you are working on a text, what sources inspire you? Do dreams play a role in your works?

I’ve always found inspiration in emotions, repressed as well as expressed, collective as well as individual. I’ve always been extremely sensitive, which I think a lot of writers are (as well as every other living being on earth, we just have different ways to express and cope…). I’ve always been easily overwhelmed, but from a young age I was lucky to discover writing as a way of expressing myself, and that led to a lot of relief and meaning. I’ve kept a dream diary for more than 6 years, and before that I often wrote down my dreams in writing or used a dream as a starting point for a scene or a dialogue. I teach creative writing and I always encourage my students to pay great attention to their dreams and their subconsciousness Both because it’s a freeway to understand your own patterns better, and when you do that, you can use that understanding in the characters you create even better. Furthermore, when you’re writing down a dream or writing stream of consciousness, you’re most of the time free from judging yourself of what you’re writing. You’re simply just writing, breathing, creating, and following an intuitive muscle in your brain and body, and that is very rare and very important to hold on to. There are tons of other ‘muscles’ in your own system and in our collective systems, that will try to convince you that creating art is a waste of time, but actually – here’s a well-kept secret: creating art is a way of stealing time and opening up time. It’s a chance of trying time travel, and a way of dwelling with memories, inventing new ones and exploring secrets. I don’t buy that idea of the very lonely and unhappy (and often super drunk) writer. I see writing as a way of taking part in the world around us, channeling out our thoughts, questions and, yup, feelings.

When do you decide to give a title to a work you are working on if it already does not have one? 

Titles are the hardest thing… I really wish it was more normcore to use the same title over and over… because when you think about it, it’s often the same themes you keep circling around over and over and over again. I hope this answers your question…

Are there any writer, artist or person whom you think influenced your art most? And if there is such a figure, who?

There’s so many, living and dead, as well as the many to come who are not yet born. I like the idea of being a part of an enormous choir of writers and artists, where each piece of art is a continuing thought from another piece of art, that was created as a reaction to a third piece of art and so on. I like to imagine this choir as a connecting collective response to what’s going on in the world, now and in our past, as well as in our future. This choir reminds us that we are a part of the same cycles, the same planet, and that such a thing as a genius doesn't really exist, it’s just a manmade phenomenon to achieve more power, status and influence. Talking about manmade phenomenons: there’s this interesting tendency to always ask ‘who inspires you’ instead of what inspires you or: Where do you find inspiration and energy to carry on with creating… The answer to that question will be: Power structures inspires me, normalized violence inspires me. The normalized destruction of our planet, our home, inspires me. Love inspires me, grief inspires me, stress, anger, and protests inspires me. Queerness inspires me. Things we take for granted inspires me. Growing up in a female body inspires me, being very familiar with shame and quilt inspires me. Anger inspires me. Longing for meaning inspires me. Longing for love inspires me. Longing for being listened to inspires me. Decay inspires me. Hope inspires me, the hopelessness in capitalism inspires me, the revolution all over inspires me. So much. Jellyfish inspire me, and the many creatures on earth we do not give enough credit for being outstanding.

When you consider the current state of the world in every sense, what is the most important and urgent issue for you as an artist?

The most important urgent issue for me as an artist to focus on, is climate disturbance and the millions of changes that we will bring to our planet, our globalization and life as we know it. Climate disturbances are so intertwined with other conflicts, and I’m both fearful and hopeful when it comes to the future – because there’s no way out of confronting our biggest “challenge” ever. I grew up in a small suburb on the west coast of Denmark in the 90’s and 00’s. I grew up in one of the most secure and privileged societies in the world, and I grew up with a lot of stories of being born in a country and on a continent that was – and have always fought for – being on the right side of history. During my late teens and twenties, I started to question that idea of being on the right side of history, and I started to pay attention to national narratives as well as global narratives. I think it's an extremely interesting time to be alive, and a deeply chaotic and heartbreaking time as well, and I think it’s very important to be critical to stories, narratives and explanations. There’s a lot of violence and anger in my writing, and oceans of sadness. Assaults very much repeat themselves in my writing and have done since day one. I see it as a result of being human, female and queer in a world dominated so intensely by patriarchy – and I see no way out of continuing to create from that.

What are your main concerns when a play of yours is translated into another language? 

Having a piece translated into Turkish opens up a new level of control loss. I don’t understand any Turkish, to me Turkish sounds like music, and can’t live without music. I’m proud to have a text read and played in another language, so I absolutely choose to trust the process and my colleagues in this case at Galata Perform and New Text Festival. I’m very grateful for their work and looking forward to experiencing the piece and the festival.

Do you believe your works resonate more with your local culture/community or more universally? 

I hope to be able to create stories that resonate on a universal level, but of course there will always be part of a person’s writing that reveals their background. That’s also the beauty of it, and why one can argue that writing is always political. Writing always reveals the writer. The language you chose to write in is political, the rhythm and the words you use reveals your national background, your culture, your class, gender and body. I’ve grown up being very close to my aunt, who is a storyteller. From a very young age I’ve listened to stories from Nordic mythology. Later, I fell head over heels in love with Greek mythology. Myths are universal and seem to me as a shared heritage of human behavior, mind patterns, our subconsciousness, dreams and power to both transform and destroy. Myths show us that after all, we’re not that different. We share thoughts, wonders and struggles. But since writing is political, it’s important to be aware of which stories you can tell, because they live inside of you - and which stories you have the fine honor of being a listener to. I believe that’s very important to be aware of when it comes to the word ‘universal’.

After training as a playwright, you have also trained as a screenwriter. What got you interested in play-film writing?

I actually started writing screenplays for short films when I was around 20. Quickly, I felt restless and missed the poetry and language you’re allowed to use in theater, and the fact that theater rarely claims to be realism. Then, when I had a year back of my playwright education at The National School of Performing Arts, I began dreaming of writing for movies again, and to be able to shift between the two artforms. I was lucky to be accepted to the alternative film education Super16 just after I finished my playwright education. Super16 also allowed me to write a lot of theater on the side, while I was studying there, and it has opened many new collaborations, which I’m very grateful for. I feel lucky to be able to have the freedom to work in different media, and to not feel limited in form when I get an idea. I’m very interested in being able to reach so many different audiences, and to play with and mix the writing- traditions I come from.

Do you have any expectations from the Turkish directors who will be staging your play’s reading? 

Only love, curiosity and support.

[The Turkish version of this interview was published in unlimited.]